


Untitled

by lacemonster



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Dark, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Taboo, Underage Sex, Wall Sex, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: A month ago, Dick was afflicted with one of Poison Ivy's pollen. A month ago, he made a mistake that's been eating him up ever since--one that he hoped to avoid ever confronting.
Until Bruce tells Dick that Damian keeps disappearing, and Dick can't keep hiding his secret anymore.
Pretty much really gross PWP smut. Please be mindful of the tags.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violet_scythe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violet_scythe/gifts).



> This is Part 1 of an art exchange with violet_scythe. I'm sorry this took so long. I'm also sorry that this got really weird and smutty for no reason. :'D Hope you like it anyways.
> 
> So as the summary said, this is really just smut. I've been so busy with school and work and everything and this was really the only fun thing that I worked on, so I went a bit overboard.
> 
> Please be mindful of the tags. This story is extremely dub-con (bordering on non-con) and also underage. Damian's age is never specified in this but he is explicitly mentioned as being a minor + size difference kink. Any comments that didn't adhere to the warnings will be ignored and deleted.
> 
> Normally I'm very open to concrit, but considering I just wrote this for fun and it's PWP, I can't say that I will go back to edit much outside of typos/grammar mistakes. Feel free to leave comments anyways but I don't think I will be making any major changes.
> 
> To see VioletScythe's half of the exchange, please follow this link (warning: NSFW, Underage): http://violetscythecomics.tumblr.com/post/156810321209/art-exchange
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> EDIT/UPDATE: I'm very happy to say that the artist Izumo did a cover page for this fanfiction! With her permission, I added the drawing into the story. Thank you so much Izumo, this is amazing! To see more of Izumo's art, please follow her on twitter @izumocay! https://twitter.com/izumocay

 

“Why did you pick a cat?”

Dick stopped in place. He wasn't expecting anyone else to be around.

It was a late night, and a relatively peaceful patrol—his cases had slowed down for once and the city, for the most part, seemed at ease. He glanced over his shoulder, just as a wind passed by—carrying the sound of a bell’s jingle. He raised an eyebrow as Damian held out the tiny acrylic cat attached to a string.

“It's a phone charm. You're not supposed to just carry it in your hands,” Dick said, biting back the amusement in his voice. Damian just looked more puzzled. Dick could have asked Damian how he had discovered who the gift was from—but Dick skipped the question, supposing it was pretty obvious. Still, he hadn't expected Damian to figure it out so soon. He thought he had placed the charm on Damian’s dresser inconspicuously enough. He had even managed to sneak into his room when no one was around the manor.

Damian looked down at the cat charm, shrugging.

“I can't take my phone with me on patrol.”

“Well, yeah. I didn't expect you to. The charm just stays on the phone. In fact, you probably shouldn't be carrying it on you—it makes too much noise.” While Damian was pretty stealthy, Dick imagined carrying a bell on him still wasn't the best idea, even if it was a tiny one.

“Aren't charms for good luck?” Damian said, confused. He closed his hand around the charm that he had been dangling off his fingers. He held it in his palm, looking at it once more.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly. He hadn't put that much thought into it. He just saw it at a store, on a little display rack next to the register. He had looked at it, thought of Damian, and bought it.

He wasn't sure why. Sure, Damian liked all animals, but a cat really didn't have as much significance as, say, a _bird_ or a _bat_. And while Damian had Alfred, that cat was black and white, not like the gray one on the charm.

It was definitely an impulse buy. Now that Dick took the time to think about it, it wasn't a good gift idea for Damian at all. Even if he put it on his phone properly, the chiming would probably be too annoying for his taste.

“I didn't put that much thought into it,” Dick admitted. “I just figured it was kinda cute.”

For that matter, it was probably too cutesy for Damian’s taste too. But Damian just nodded a little, tucking the charm back into one of his pouches.

“Where's Batman?” Dick asked, shifting his weight to his other leg. Damian tilted his head in the direction of one of the other skyscrapers.

“There. I spotted you going by. Father didn't mind.”

Dick’s eyes softened a little. Damian, going out of his way to meet him. Leaving his father's side. On patrol, no less. It should have been a bit of an endearing moment—any other time, Dick would have teased the boy about it.

Dick glanced at the pouch where Damian stuffed away the charm, feeling a bit anxious. He wished Bruce hadn’t let Damian come see him. Secretly, he hoped that Bruce would call him back.

“So why didn't you just hand it to me?” Damian asked. Dick looked down at him.

“It was a surprise,” Dick said without skipping a beat. Damian seemed convinced, nodding once.

There was suddenly a loud sound. It sounded like glass and metal clanging, crashing—followed by shouting. Dick hurried to the edge of the rooftop, looking where he had heard the sound. In his peripherals, he saw Damian’s shadow following behind him. Dick looked down into the alleyway, took a look at the scene and found a presumed thief coming out from a side door and wrapping around the corner of the building.

“Robin—”Dick started, but Damian was already rushing down. Dick growled a little to himself. Damian always jumped at an opportunity to fight. That characteristic normally didn't bother him—even he was guilty of doing that from time to time, especially when he was at that age.

Still, sometimes he wished that Damian wouldn’t be so careless.

He followed Damian closely on his heels, scaling down the building into the alleyway, twisting around the corner in time to see Damian hopping onto the thief’s back.

The thief was pulled back, his bag of loot falling to the ground. Damian quickly brought him down and Dick slowed to a stop, realizing his assistance was unneeded. Just a petty thief, pitifully unprepared for Damian's superior training, easily knocking him out.

Dick watched over as Damian finished zip-tying the man, calling for GCPD in the meantime. Afterwards, Damian moved towards the bag.

“Don't touch that,” Dick warned him. “You don’t know what’s in it. It could be a weapon or evidence.”

“I highly doubt it’s anything dangerous. If it is evidence, I’m wearing gloves. What if it’s something important?”

“Haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’?” Dick said.

“Is that why you picked a cat?” Damian said. His voice was joking but Dick found himself bristling in defense.

Perhaps the cat was fitting.

Despite Dick’s warning, Damian yanked the bag up. Dick huffed a little, striding forward to take the bag away, but he only made it a few steps when Damian had the bag undone.

Damian reached in and just as quickly yanked his hand back, his teeth gritted. Dick didn’t see the details but he did catch the tear and glimpse of blood on Damian’s hand.

Without questioning, Dick moved and snatched the bag from Damian.

“What was that?” Damian asked, looking at the wound with a bit of surprise. It was nothing deep, the glove blocked most of it. It seemed more like a finger prick.

Dick glanced inside the bag, shaking his head to himself.

“Of course it was safeguarded,” he said. There was a thin layer of wires crisscrossed in the lining, protecting the money that sat at the bottom of the bag. The wires were only visible depending on how the light settled on them—which, in this dark alley with only flickering scones, was practically invisible. Even for someone with a keen eye like Damian. Dick knew because he had seen it before—the wired bags were actually a growing trend among thieves, who wanted to protect their stolen goods from vigilantes or other robbers.

“ _Tt_. Well, thieves might not be getting tougher, but I guess they’re getting more creative. Bravo for them. They managed to nibble through my glove,” Damian said, snorting. “What a joke.”

“You wouldn’t be bleeding at all if you had just listened,” Dick said, his annoyance bubbling up. “Also, just running after the enemy, so soon? What if he was a metahuman? Not smart. This is why you’re still a sidekick.”

“What are you going to do, tattle on me to Batman?” Damian said. Damian acted tough enough but Dick could tell he was slighted. It wasn’t often that Dick reproached him, not anymore. He had gotten most of that out of his system when they were their own dynamic duo. Dick thought, for a moment, that he should rein himself in—but Damian’s usual brattiness, this time, pushed Dick’s words over the edge.

“You shouldn’t just run headfirst into danger. And you should listen when I tell you to leave something alone,” Dick said sharply, but he immediately caught himself when Damian glanced up at him. As they locked eyes, a vague memory returned to Dick, and he found a dull guilt rising. He was being too harsh. In the end, the cut wasn’t too bad, and Damian did catch the thief quickly and efficiently. Dick had made this unnecessarily personal. He sighed a little. “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. You did good work. Just... be careful next time.”

Dick tied the bag back up and tossed it back to Damian, who easily caught it. Damian didn’t bother looking in it again—he moved to follow Dick, but slowed down to look at his cut fingers.

“Are you alright?” Dick asked. Without even meaning to, his hand stroked the back of Damian’s head, finally resting on his nape. The gesture was an old habit and Dick didn’t realize what he had done until Damian tensed in place.

A vague, hazy flashback returned to Dick. One where he had touched the nape of Damian’s neck, remembering how smooth it felt. How hot.

How slender.

Dick pulled his hand back, tried not to overreact.

“I’m fine,” Damian said after a moment. Dick was afraid to look him in the eye, a feeling of guilt entering his chest. But he nodded, his mouth feeling dry.

“Good,” he managed to say, immediately wondering afterwards if it was the wrong thing to say. Wondered if Damian might have interpreted some deeper implications to his words. Dick almost wanted to apologize, or explain what he meant, but he kept his mouth shut.

 

Dick rolled onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

He should have talked to Bruce.

If he had just come clean at the start, he would have been relieved of this guilt. It wasn’t too late, he supposed. But at this point, the secret felt ingrained. It had been over a month now. How would Bruce react if he found out? Even more, how would he react knowing that Dick didn’t tell him right away? He had been idle for too long.

Would Bruce be hurt? Disappointed? Certainly, he would be furious.

Not that Dick wasn’t already hurt, disappointed and furious with himself. But how upset, exactly, would Bruce be if he knew? How deep would the punishment go? It was one of the few times where Dick couldn’t be certain of how Bruce would respond. Dick had always convinced himself that, no matter how many times they argued or failed to get along, Bruce would always love and forgive him.

But what Dick had done was unforgivable.

Dick had tried to pretend that he didn’t remember the incident.

He hadn’t spoken to Damian about it. Not once. Even immediately afterwards when he came to, he hadn’t said anything. He pretended to be out of it, turned his back towards him. Since then he had never acted differently around Damian, except in avoiding him.

But of course he remembered. Some of it was fragmented, mixed between fact and imagination, but what he did remember, he could remember with alarming, intense detail. Still, he avoided it, lied and pretended he didn’t know what he had done, and he often wondered if Damian knew he was lying.

It started when they were on a mission, like usual. They had been chasing Poison Ivy, like usual.

Dick had been careless, like usual.

He ran right into a cloud of pollen without a mask on. He didn’t think anything of it until the damage was already done, even succeeded in taking Ivy down. Bruce immediately took him back to the manor, to run some tests. Dick felt fine—no pain, no nausea, nothing. But Bruce, paranoid as ever, kept him there. It wasn't until later in the night that Dick began to feel the effects.

He was flitting in and out of consciousness. The pollen’s effects felt like some kind of hypnosis, where he was aware and yet unaware. From what he remembered, the pollen felt like a fever, his body on fire. His body was sensitive even to the lightest of touches, like the sheets touching against his skin or the folds of his clothing.

They weren’t quite sure what happened to him. Didn’t understand the full extent of the pollen’s effects. Even so, Bruce was cautious. Always cautious. So on top of keeping him at the manor, Dick was confined to a room. Dick knew that Bruce and Alfred must have warned Damian not to disturb him. To stay away.

And Dick knew that Damian never listened.

He had snuck in when he wasn’t supposed to. He just wanted to check on Dick. It should have been sweet, knowing that Damian was concerned for him—but looking back on it, this fact only sunk Dick further into his guilt. Maybe it would have been easier if Damian _hadn't_ cared.

Dick hadn’t heard him enter the room. His mind was too foggy. He just remembered turning his head on the pillow and Damian was there, saying something, but Dick couldn’t remember what words were spoken. He remembered the heat underneath his skin, fuelled by his heightened senses.

He was in a daze. He remembered Damian’s smell. The warmth radiating from his body. He remembered dragging Damian into his arms. Onto the bed. And Damian didn’t resist any differently than he would have if Dick had picked him up for a bear hug or mussed his hair—just light protests, but no intent to actually fight him off, because as much as Damian disliked the physical contact, he _always_ enjoyed Dick’s attention, even if he’d never admit it.

Dick wasn’t sure when Damian caught on that there was something more to the situation. Dick had been too focused on his own desires, his head swimming in sensations and his most instinctual senses—like the fever that was spreading through his system, the comfort in Damian’s warm body touching his skin. His heart racing, blood pumping. Dick remembered being vaguely aware of Damian’s size. How perfectly he fit into the crook of Dick’s body. How easily he tucked underneath his form as Dick crawled over him.

His wrists.

So slender in Dick’s grasp.

Dick’s drinking experience was severely limited—but the closest thing Dick could liken the experience to was a drunken haze. Everything was a blur, his memory picking up only fragments. His body was unbelievably hot. The heat prickled at his skin, like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, his nipples hardened, his pants felt tight. He wasn’t sure what sound Damian made when Dick kissed him, but he was vaguely aware of how large his tongue felt as he filled Damian’s mouth.

Dick remembered how uncomfortable his clothes felt. How hot and tight, how every fiber of the knit seemed to be touching him all at once. He remembered pulling at his pants, freeing his cock. Wasn’t sure if he stroked it properly, perhaps he just rubbed himself against his hand, but he _did_ touch himself. The sensations against his cock only seemed to fuel his desires rather than relieve it. Dick looked back on that specific moment with a bit of shame. It was the least of his crimes, but he still couldn’t believe he had exposed himself to Damian like that. Naked before him, kneeling over him and touching himself heedlessly. At the time, he didn’t think anything of it. There was no decency in his head to pull himself back, he could only think of his own immediate desires.

He couldn’t remember much of what Damian looked like. His memory was just a mix of colors and sounds. He remembered glimpses of bronzed skin as he pulled Damian’s pants off, couldn’t remember where he put the clothing. Knew Damian had to have been naked at some point, because the images of Damian’s skin—the crook of his exposed neck, his narrow waist, his smooth stomach, a beauty mark near his hipbone—still visited Dick from time to time. And that was shameful to think of too—he was terrified to think of what Damian must have felt, being forcefully stripped when he normally dressed in layers upon layers.

Dick felt out of control of his own body. He sometimes wondered what he must have looked like in Damian’s eyes. Was he frightening? Unhinged? Were his eyes numb, like he was lost? Or did he look as desirous as he felt, like a hungry predator? But somewhere in the fog that clouded his reason, the back of his mind must have been working. Perhaps it was working off of old memories, memories of old lovers, because he still understood how bodies worked.

Dick’s fingers had slipped into Damian’s body. Dick remembered staring as they disappeared into Damian’s body, remembered the way they crooked inside him. Dick hadn’t watched Damian’s face. Instead, he had stared fixedly at the lower half of Damian’s body, but not with any intent of pleasuring Damian. He stared as his fingers penetrated Damian’s hole, thick digits scissoring inside of him. Spreading him. Remembered watching, more in wonder than in perverseness, as Damian’s body struggled to accommodate him, his body stuffed from the fingers alone.

Dick didn’t need to remember every single moment to know that he hadn’t spent enough time preparing Damian. There was no way his fingers had been enough.

He didn’t remember any sounds except his own breathing as he forced himself inside of Damian. But he did remember looking into Damian’s face. Remembered how red he looked, almost scarlet. Remembered watching him clench his eyes and grit his teeth as Dick stuffed himself inside, pushing past that ring of muscle. Feeling the head of his cock swallowed by intense heat. Damian, his body clamped tight around him. He remembered Damian’s body rising and falling as he struggled to balance his breath. Remembered Damian reaching out with one hand, clenching tight around one of the arms that Dick used to balance himself. Hard enough that the nails dug in Dick’s skin in a pain that Dick couldn’t feel. He could only feel the pleasure that surrounded his cock. The nail marks on his skin the day after were the only evidence of Damian’s strength.

He remembered looking into Damian’s face as the boy kept his jaw clenched tight until finally, finally, his mouth fell open. He couldn’t hear him—that or he couldn’t remember. Dick wasn’t sure if Damian’s voice was gasping, moaning, but he knew he wasn’t screaming. If he had screamed, they definitely would have been caught.

Damian should have screamed.

He remembered his cock sliding in, inch by inch, his girth stretching Damian wide. Remembered, even in his haze, that it didn’t look right—that it didn’t seem right that such a small body could take his size when it should have cleaved him in half. And surely, it couldn’t have. There was no way Damian was prepared for that. His body wasn’t meant to accept it. He was young, virginal, barely prepped. All Damian had was his tolerance to pain.

The idea of inflicting Damian pain, whether he could handle it or not, was incredibly shameful.

Dick didn’t know how much he hurt Damian—but looking back on it, he imagined that it was a horrible experience. He had been too focused on himself to gauge Damian’s reactions, not that he had cared anyways. How cruel he must have been, forcing Damian’s legs apart. Forcing his hips to accommodate a man about twice his age and twice his size.

Dick thought of all of this and more. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed, feeling a familiar stirring inside of him. A faint flush on his face. He shifted in his bed, the mattress lightly creaking beneath him. He had currently dressed down for bed and the material of his sleeping shorts felt nice pressed against his skin.

He was guilty, yes.

He felt ashamed, yes.

But he also got hard thinking about it.

The sensations he had felt that night—he had no idea of how long it had actually been, time ceased to exist in his head, could have been minutes as easily as hours, could have been daytime as easily as night—had been unlike anything he had felt before. His body had never felt so hot, so sensitive. Just the memory of it made him hard to the point of aching.

But if he was honest, it wasn’t just the pollen. That was the reason, yes. He never would have done that to Damian if it wasn't for that. But there were other factors, things that excited him that he doubted any person in the same situation could have ignited in him. Like the rush that went through him as Damian’s brow furrowed, no different than when he was concentrating on a mission or right before they argued. The way that Damian’s usual mask of overconvuluted confidence and arrogance came crumbling down, melting into something softer. Something vulnerable.

Something _wanting_.

But he couldn’t have wanted it. Dick knew that. It was just the pollen. Some veil over his eyes, making him see things that weren’t there, all under a haze of lust. Damian was precocious for his age, sure, but _this_ —

Dick had missed him.

Sure, he had left a gift for him in his room instead of handing it to him. But that didn’t mean that Dick didn’t want to see him. It was just hard to forget what he had done. It was hard to address it, even though he knew he owed it to Damian to _say something_.

Because in that moment, it felt like the desire in Damian’s eyes were real. The pleasure laced tightly with the pain. The way Damian seemed to grip onto him, in a way that felt more like a desire to pull Dick in closer, rather than to simply hold onto something to grab and bear through the hurt.

He thought about it every night.

He touched himself to it, just like now. Hand rubbing over his sleeping shorts, at first, as if he was just entertaining the thought of masturbating—when he knew fully well, each and every time, that he'd cave. And he would always pretend that he wasn't thinking about Damian, even though he couldn’t think about anyone else.

Admittedly, he thought about doing it again.

He thought about it to the point of plotting it, wondering what the best time to get Damian alone was. Wondering how he could convince Damian to let him do it again.

He wanted to feel those sensations again. Wanted to feel the hot, dry, tight squeeze of Damian around his cock. Wanted it more than the hand that finally slipped past his waistband—because he couldn’t fool himself any longer, he was rock hard and needed _something_ touching him.

He imagined playing it out in a variety of ways. The same as the first—Damian sneaking in to check on him, before Dick tossed him onto the bed, crawled on top of him, forced himself inside. Sometimes, when the sexual frustration was thick because his hand was never enough, he imagined himself going after Damian. Pinning him down and fucking him and knowing he wouldn't resist, that he'd grit his way through it—and if he did resist, it wouldn't matter, because Dick was stronger. Quicker.

But even when Dick’s mind played out these scenes in his head, no matter how dark it got, it all ended the same:

At the end, through all of the cruelty and pain, they’d both finish. They were both satisfied. And Damian would love the things that Dick did to him, and love _him_ by extension.

Because even though he was now addicted to these thoughts of doing all of these despicable things to Damian, had done it once and still fantasized about doing it again, he still cared about Damian.

He still missed him, even though he couldn’t trust himself to be near him.

Dick clenched his eyes shut. His hand was jerking his cock, mulling these thoughts over, and it was so routine by now that Dick already knew that he wasn't going to last much longer.

There was something else about the incident that he was afraid of remembering.

Another reason why he was afraid of talking to Damian.

His mind had been afflicted by the pollen, yes, but the longer he had fucked Damian, the more of himself began to return. The more the pollen had began to wear off.

And _that_ , more than the fear of getting in trouble or facing consequences, was why he was afraid of telling the truth—because right there, right at the _very_ end, he was in control of himself again.

The heat was pooling in his groin. He was buried deep inside of Damian. And he had finished, sparks and heat running up and down his body as he dumped his seed inside of Damian. His body had stilled, but only for a moment. The heat was still on his skin, the fever unsubsiding.

But there was a moment of epiphany, right after he climaxed, and his mind suddenly felt clear. He came to the realization, with a bit of horror, what he had just done. The pollen was still fucking with his nerves, his sensitivity, and he was still stiff and hard inside of Damian despite his orgasm, but he could _see_ again.

He recognized the boy underneath him. Saw his identity.

His head had put together the rest.

But he also saw that he was still hard, still buried inside of this boy. This boy that he had loved and trained. Felt the wet heat of his own ejaculate lubricating Damian’s hole, which was still holding onto him, their bodies still connected.

Dick should have pulled out.

He didn’t.

He fucked him again.

And he didn't really look Damian in the eye as he did it, but he remembered. Remembered the hitched breaths and muffled groans.

Remembered Damian coming, Dick still fucking him deep and hard and fast—anything to relieve his body of the itch—and losing it when Damian suddenly clenched tight around him, hips shaking and thighs trembling as he came with Dick’s cock buried inside of him, finishing on his lower stomach. And Dick fucked him through it until he came inside him a second time.

A second time.

And that was the hardest part to confront—knowing he had done it on purpose. That he had made it go on, even though he was in control again, because he had been selfish. He could have tried to blame it on the pollen, blame it on the effects that still had his hold on him, but in the end, he couldn’t deny the truth. He had made the wrong _choice_.

And Damian allowed it, only because he trusted him.

How could Dick have done something like that to him?

But Dick doesn't ask himself that anymore, not in his bed anyways. In his bed, it's a safe haven, and he can pretend and fantasize about all the things he could have done differently. And when he finished his hand, he could keep pretending.

Pretending that he had everything under control.

 

Dick was running the rooftops downtown when there was a sudden static on his commlink. Bruce’s voice suddenly came in, clear.

“Nightwing. I need a moment of your time.”

Dick wasn't busy, not really. He was following some leads but they could be delayed—Bruce never asked for his help unless he truly needed it.

“Your wish is my command,” Dick said, hopping from one ledge to the next. Smirking a little, he said, “Well, within reason.”

“Robin went missing.”

Dick stopped what he was doing, his run coming to a slow. Missing? The calm in Bruce’s voice prevented Dick from panicking. Still, it was strange. Damian never wandered off unless he was up to something. Dick made a face. “You... don't sound too concerned.”

“I’ve been tracking the GPS on his utility belt. For the past few nights, he's been disappearing to the same spot. He's not in trouble—that is, unless he's getting himself _into_ trouble. I'll send you the coordinates.”

“Me?” Dick said, a little incredulously. “Why am I the one fetching him?”

“Because you know a thing or two about being young and running away. If he's sneaking out, he must not want me to get involved. He trusts you more than he trusts me.”

That should have been a compliment. Instead, a dull guilt entered Dick’s chest.

Dick felt a little frustrated, trying to come up with an excuse to not go. “That's _why_ you need to talk to him. You need to build up that trust.”

He stopped, composing himself for a moment. His frustration had little to do with Bruce. He had to wonder if he would be so hesitant if he wasn't so afraid of facing Damian. After thinking about it, he wondered what his issue was. If Damian had ran away at any other time, Dick would have _wanted_ to be the first to talk to him.

He sighed a little, changing his tone.

“Give me the location. I’ll keep you updated.”

He followed the coordinates that Bruce sent, finding himself in a familiar area. It was his normal patrol territory. He found Damian quickly enough, though it was difficult to spot him in the shadows. Damian was wandering in an alleyway, his hood drawn over his face—but each step he took was slow, his head turning often.

Dick watched him curiously for a moment.

“You can come down anytime you like,” Damian said suddenly, snorting a little. Dick wasn’t at all surprised that Damian had spotted him. He leaped down from his perching spot on the fireplace.

Damian didn’t act any differently. He kept walking down the alley, mouth shut. Dick just idly followed him.

“So was it an argument? What did he say?” Dick couldn't help but grin a little to himself, continuing without waiting for Damian’s response, “Let me guess. He told you that you couldn’t drive the batmobile. Or, more likely, he told you that you were doing something _wrong_.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Damian said, hissing between his teeth. Dick ignored him, continued egging him on. It was the best way to get through to him, Dick knew this. He knew this because he had to learn how to communicate with Damian, back when they were a team.

Back before things got all screwed up.

“Hate to break it to you but he’s never going to change,” Dick went on. “You just have to accept that he always thinks he’s right. Which will probably be hard for you because, well, if we have to compare stubbornness—”

“I lost it,” Damian said, suddenly stopping. Dick, still following, nearly bumped into him.

“What?”

“I lost it.”

Dick looked at him.

“The stupid cat you gave me.”

Dick wasn't sure what to say. A moment of silence passed between them. Damian continued staring off, hood over his face. He wouldn't face Dick.

“That’s all?” Dick said gently. “You don't have to worry about that, I'm not upset.” Damian didn't say anything, head still turned. Dick shifted in place. “Come on. Let’s just head back.”

“It was a gift,” Damian said, sounding almost irritated. The brash, stubborn statement was weakened by the touch of uncertainty in Damian’s tone.

“Yeah, but…” Dick trailed off, sensing the upset in Damian’s body language, even if he wasn't saying anything. His eyes were still looking—everywhere, except at Dick. Dick frowned a little, a familiar feeling beginning to bubble up. Guilt. “Robin, it was nothing important. I just wanted—”

Dick wasn't sure how to end that sentence. His heart was beating a little quicker, his skin feeling a little chilled. He was nervous, the truth sitting at the tip of his tongue. Damian finally glanced up at him and Dick nearly bit his lip, but the truth slowly came tumbling out.

“I just.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to give you _something_.”

At that, Dick stopped. He felt ashamed. It was stupid to think he could win Damian’s love and forgiveness with a stupid charm. Even if Damian could forgive him, it didn't change what Dick had done to him.

It definitely didn't change what Dick still wanted to do.

“I want it back,” Damian said with a tone of insistence. “It has to be on this block, I already checked the others.”

“What if it was picked up or kicked into the sewers? Just let me get you a new one,” Dick said, frowning a little. “It doesn't have to be a cat either.”

“I didn’t mind the cat,” Damian said, frustrated. He shook his head to himself once, went back to looking with almost a sense of determination. Dick felt like arguing but he soon found himself looking too.

They went up and down the dark alley in silence. It wasn't until much later that Dick caught a glimpse of something, pushed up against the brick wall. He went and picked up the cat charm. At the sound of the bell, Damian immediately turned and headed towards him.

“You found it,” he said.

“It's all scratched up,” Dick said, frowning a little. “The dirt will rinse off but—”

Damian ignored him, holding out his hand. Dick dropped it in his palm. Dick glanced up, saw the oddly pleased look in Damian’s face.

Dick wasn't sure how to feel when he saw that expression.

“Are we good now? Your dad is worried, you know.”

Damian just shrugged a little, keeping his hand wrapped around the charm.

“It's not like he could have stopped me anyways,” Damian said, nonchalant. Dick rolled his eyes at the smug statement. Damian continued, “Besides, where is he now? He knows I'm not in danger, otherwise he'd be here instead of sending his messenger pigeon to do his work.”

Dick gave a long sigh, feeling a little annoyed, but Damian had a point. Sometimes Damian was too smart for his own good.

They grappled to the nearest rooftop in the hopes of taking the roofs back to the nearest safehouse, where Damian could then route back home. As they climbed over the edge, Damian spoke up.

“I thought you were angry with me.”

Dick turned his head. Saw Damian, eyes slightly downcast. His voice was surprisingly soft. There was something there, something in his posture and tone, an insecurity. A vulnerability, maybe. Dick didn't understand.

“Why?” As he tried to think of reasons, his heart beat a little faster. He told himself that it had to have been the way he treated Damian. The snippiness, the insistence on dragging him back… but any other time, Damian would have responded to that attitude with anger. Right now, Damian wasn't angry. No, instead, he just seemed—

Afraid.

“It seemed like you were avoiding me,” Damian said. His hand, still holding the charm, fidgeted a little, the bell making light sounds in response. Damian rarely displayed his nerves. Dick couldn't pinpoint the way he was acting, until, “I thought it might have been because I went into your room.”

Dick’s heart skipped a beat. A cold feeling washed over him, from his head to his toes. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. If Damian noticed, he didn’t say anything. He elaborated, even though there was no need to.

“About a month ago, when you were infected with Ivy’s pollen and you came to the manor… when you were sick, I went in your room—”

Dick couldn't listen to it anymore. Hearing Damian recount it, with that uncertain look in his eyes—

“I know,” Dick said, swallowing. Damian’s eyes were on him and Dick felt almost pressured underneath his gaze. “I know, I remember it. I wasn't sure how to bring it up. I… I'm sorry.” Dick’s mouth felt dry, his nerves shaking. It was difficult to speak, his mind racing with different apologies. Excuses were crawling around his mind, all of which he had to stuff down. If he was going to say anything, anything at all, he needed to apologize. He needed to be honest. It was the least he could do. “Please don’t think I was angry with you or trying to punish you. I wasn't—my head was all weird. The things I did—that wasn't _planned_.” He stopped, shaking his head. He didn’t know how to apologize any further, didn’t know how to make it right. “I really should have talked with you sooner. I shouldn't have lied and left you in the dark like that.”

He thought of the gift. He thought of leaving it on Damian’s dresser, where no one could see him place it. Dick inwardly reprimanded himself for being so foolish.

If anyone should have been upset, though, it should have been Damian.

Dick couldn’t gauge Damian’s reaction. He seemed expressionless but Dick could sense the thought behind his eyes. He was considering Dick’s words.

“I don't expect you to forgive me. And I don't… I don't expect you to believe me when I say I wasn't trying to hurt you,” Dick said when Damian didn't say anything. Dick’s gaze lowered a little, realizing he was rambling. “I just want you to know that it wasn't your fault.”

“Did you like it?”

Dick stopped.

“What?” His tongue felt thick.

Their eyes locked. Beneath the mask, Dick could catch a hint of Damian’s crystal eyes. Intense.

“Did you like it?”

Dick’s brain wasn't working. It's not that he didn't understand the look Damian’s eyes were giving him—he just didn't believe it. He swallowed.

“No, of course not. I wasn't _me_ —”Dick started but he stopped, knowing the lie.

He hadn't been himself, at the start, but that second time… when he had already finished inside of Damian once and his cock was still pulsing inside of him... when his mind cleared and the control of his body returned to him but Damian was so warm and wet from his seed and was looking up at him like he _wanted_ Dick to keep going… and Dick did.

He did.

_He_ fucked Damian.

Touched Damian too, forced him to come while Dick was still buried deep inside of him. Wanted to feel him shake and tremble around his cock. Sinking in, down to the base. Holding onto narrow hips, lifted up from the mattress because Dick was just that strong and Damian was just that light, and fucked him until he unleashed his second load inside of him. And he heard every sound, felt every touch, smelled their sex in the air.

And he had thought about it ever since. Touching himself to it, burying his shame to the back of his mind and replacing it with images, memories, of Damian, appropriated the assault to fuel his own fantasies, until he finished in his hand wishing it was inside of Damian instead.

Yeah, he liked it.

He loved it.

Loved fucking Damian for his own pleasure, loved the way he clenched like a vice around him, loved the flush on his skin and the way he flinched as Dick’s nails dug into his thighs, spreading them apart. Loved making him cry out, forcing sounds from a mouth that was usually either clenched shut or was spouting out snarky comments. Loved being mean.

Loved the way Damian came, eyes locked into his, glassy but in pleasure. The devotion underlying his gaze, despite the horrible things Dick had done. The sins he had committed. And Damian, just laying there, his body and mind accepting.

Accepting.

Dick had been so afraid.

He was still so afraid.

Especially now, with the way Damian was looking at him. That precocious glint in his eye but the seriousness of his expression. He meant what he was saying, and the words that he were proposing—

Dick was the one who should have stayed away.

He thought of the gift.

“Damian,” Dick said, frowning as the identity slipped. His first reaction was anger—he wanted to scold Damian, to get him to never talk like that again. But he forced himself to be understanding. This was the result of what he had created, he reminded himself. It was time to stop avoiding things. He had to confront his fears. Had to take responsibility. “We can’t ever do something like that again. Do you understand? It was never even supposed to happen in the first place.”

“I stayed,” Damian said. Dick looked at him, not sure where Damian was going with this, but somehow knowing that he should stop Damian from saying another word. But he didn't, and Damian went on, “I didn’t know what was going to happen when I went and visited you—but when you pulled me into your bed, I didn’t fight you.”

That wasn’t right. Dick’s brow furrowed, his mind juggling the memories around that event. He couldn’t remember exactly what happened—but he did remember holding Damian down. Remembered the speed in which he yanked down his clothing. Remembered crawling over him, his weight pinning Damian to the mattress, gripping onto Damian’s wrists tighter than shackles. There had to have been a fight.

“But—”Dick started, but he stopped, his memory all muddled. More than that, he still didn't want to confess how much he knew.

“I wanted you to,” Damian said, looking at him. Dick shook his head. That was wrong. Damian didn't know what he wanted. He couldn't.

A mixture of feelings passed through him. Part horror, part desire. Damian shouldn’t be talking like this, looking at him like this. He shouldn’t even know of these things. But the other part of Dick couldn’t erase the feelings that had been haunting his mind for nights upon nights. He wanted to indulge in the things he kept away from himself, even the innocent things like simply having Damian in his company and going on patrol together and talking and touching his hair and fighting by his side. He wanted Damian back. He wanted Damian to be his.

And he knew that Damian would give it all to him, because he already had at least once before.

“You don’t know what you want,” he said anyways. He wasn’t sure if he believed it. Damian wasn't like most people. He was complicated. Wise and naive all at once. A man and a boy wrapped into one. He was raised to do things that no one his age did. He excelled in it.

“I know what _you_ want,” Damian said. A bold statement, but it’s far from his usual arrogance. Dick could feel it, the desire in his words. There was something to his voice, the way it wavered. He wanted Dick to approve of him, almost desperately. He didn’t want his confidence and feelings to be shattered.

“This isn't why I came here,” Dick said, perhaps sharply. “I came to bring you back to Batman. That's it.” Lowering his tone, he reminded himself he had to be supportive. Caring. It was awful that he even had to remind himself to do it, when before the pollen, supportive and caring thoughts came to him without even trying. “I'm always going to be here to talk to you but not if this is where the conversation is going to go. I—we need to take some time to think about this.”

Dick turned away, inwardly berating himself. Delaying the conversation wasn't the most graceful way to handle the situation. But Damian, looking at him like that—it made him more flustered than he cared to admit. He had only moved a step when he heard the crisp sound of the bell, felt something wrap around his wrist.

“Robin—”Dick said, looking down at the hand that was trying to stop him. He sounded frustrated but in truth, he was panicking, feeling defensive. He didn't want Damian’s hands on him.

“You wouldn't avoid me just because you felt _sorry_ ,” Damian said insistently. Dick’s heart was racing. “I remember everything. The way you acted. The look in your eyes. Your pupils were dilated but at some point, that went away. You weren’t afflicted the entire time. You _changed_ during it.”

Dick didn't understand how he could have been so foolish.

Of course Damian knew.

All that time that they had spent building their partnership and working together, it wasn't just Dick learning about Damian. Damian had to learn him too. Damian didn't understand or empathize with a lot of people, but he knew Dick.

“You wanted to do it.” Voice lower, more confident this time, Damian added almost as it were an accusation: “I bet you'd do it again.”

“No,” Dick said, stubbornly, taking his hand back.

“You owe it to me,” Damian said, sounding almost angry. Dick wasn't sure how to respond to that. Damian was trying to manipulate him to get what he wanted—a sort of emotional blackmail. But Dick knew better. Damian wasn't that person anymore. He wasn't the type to _actually_ force people into doing what he wanted. He was just desperate. But his lack of conviction only made Dick feel worse—the placed guilt was working, whether Damian believed his own threat or not. Dick didn’t want to hurt Damian. “It wasn't fair of you to do that and just _leave_ me.”

Dick took one look at Damian, whose mouth had turned into a deep scowl. There was something in his determined eyes, something that made Dick’s chest twist with hurt—but also something else.

“Turn it off.”

Damian’s face fell, questioning.

Dick’s mouth felt dry. “Your tracker. Turn it off.”

Damian eyed him carefully but, dutifully, turned off the tracking chip on his belt. Dick did the same to his, glanced around once, before pulling on Damian’s wrist. Dick’s heart was accelerating, faster and faster with each step. Anticipation growing wild as he dragged Damian around the corner of a rooftop enclosure.

_Just once_ , he told himself.

Even though he had already decided _never again_.

He held Damian’s face in his hands, caught a glimpse of the look in Damian’s eyes—eyes that waited for Dick, waiting for his instructions, and Dick had to bend his back just to reach his height. Dick angled his head, placing his lips on Damian’s.

Damian almost immediately clung on, as if he had been holding out until it was his cue, a slender arm snaking around Dick’s shoulders, hooking him in. Pulling him in, deepening their kiss. For Dick, it was everything that he had been holding back. Every night, every memory that haunted him, finally fulfilled. Damian’s lips and tongue moved clumsily against his, tentative and inexperienced, but they were warm. Soft. Even in Dick’s memories, he couldn't remember ever feeling something so soft.

Just once.

Things escalated quickly. His hand snagged the inside of the belt, pulling Damian forward a step. Damian looked down as Dick undid the buckle—the belt and deactivated tracker both falling to the ground. In the short distance between them, their heated breaths intermingled. Dick kept waiting for Damian to stop him but he knew that Damian wouldn’t. Instead, Damian just waited as he had always been waiting. His eyes were intensely focused and his face was beginning to redden as Dick snuck his hand beneath the red vest that bore the symbol he had created.

Damian’s skin was hotter than Dick remembered—or maybe it had just been so long since he touched it, he had forgotten. Dick could catch it—the faintest sound of a breath hitching, as Dick’s hands crawled up the shirt. Touching Damian’s flushed, smooth skin.

Damian took a step away and his back hit the concrete wall of the enclosure. The arm that was wrapped around Dick’s neck began to slowly, slowly slip from the broad shoulders, down to his strong arms. A hand grabbed Dick’s bicep—his thumb, barely pressing into the flesh, the touch light, as they kissed. Dick slipped his tongue inside of Damian’s mouth, a faintest whine crushed between their lips. Dick could feel his heart racing as he devoured Damian’s mouth, filled him with his tongue. He could feel Damian’s heart too, when his hands finally settled over his smooth chest.

Damian broke away, his eyes falling downward, his breath slightly ragged as he remembered to breathe. He watched Dick’s hands moving underneath the vest. Dick couldn’t quite see his eyes underneath the crafted lenses of his mask, not from their close angle, but he could see the color on Damian’s cheeks, the shine on his parted lips, the slight furrow of his brow.

Dick had barely touched him and Damian already looked like he had been teased for hours.

It was driving Dick crazy.

He captured his mouth again, even daring to suck on his bottom lip. The hand on his arm gripped him a little tighter, back arching up ever so slightly against the wall. Dick’s hands rubbed over Damian’s chest, pressing against his nipples, and Damian’s kiss wavered for a second, a soft sound humming against Dick’s lips—breaking the silence.

Dick really shouldn’t be getting this turned on. He’s getting hard already.

“What are you—”Damian started, voice hushed. Like a secret. But he cut his own words short when the pads of Dick’s thumbs teased against his chest, and Dick saw the mix of confusion and pleasure in Damian’s reaction and tried to remember if he had ever actually done this to him before or if he had just imagined it.

Dick could feel the rush in his veins, desire escalating. He was nervous, terrified of getting caught, but Damian was so pliant underneath his touch that he almost felt like he was in control. And it was strange having control when he felt anything but that for the past month—when Damian all but consumed his thoughts. When Damian, proud and headstrong, was always out of his grasp. Always out of his control. And truthfully, Dick might not have been doing any of this at all if Damian hadn’t egged him on, but none of that mattered now.

Fuck it.

Dick wanted this.

And he wasn't going to stop now.

Dick pulled up the hem of Damian’s shirt, exposing his stomach. Damian gripped at the vest, holding it without being told, watching closely as the elder crimefighter pulled at his waistband. He sensed Damian’s tension as the clothes slipped past his hips. Dick stared, heart racing, at the exposed flesh. He had undoubtedly seen this before—but he still felt as if he was experiencing this part of Damian’s body for the first time. He lightly brushed his fingertips against Damian’s hips, felt Damian stir at the touch, his exposed erection pulsing in response.

Damian said nothing, barely breathed, when Dick got on his knees. The hard, gritty surface of the rooftop was unforgiving on his joints but Dick ignored it. The sconce above them flickered with light sounds, the orange glow feeling warm despite the slightly cool air that was hitting them. Under the light, Damian’s form was contrasted in dark shadows and warm highlights. And Dick was a little amazed, because as much as he wanted to deny it, he was wildly attracted to Damian. Damian was this strange balance of a tough, young fighter and a beautiful boy. Dick had always thought so, affectionately, even before the pollen perversed his thoughts. Always believed, without a doubt, that Damian would one day grow up to be the best of his parents’ assets. Would grow up to be gorgeous as well as intelligent and brave, and Dick would have to keep a careful eye on Damian when he reached his dating years, because anybody and everybody would undoubtedly be after him.

Dick doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about what he was taking away from Damian, who shouldn’t even be focusing on things like attraction and desire when he has the rest of his lifetime to worry about it. Doesn’t want to think about Damian’s potential for suitors and how he was wasting them all because of this strange infatuation with his aged ex-mentor who was practically _family_. Doesn’t want to think of himself as the very last person that Damian should ever want to desire.

Dick leaned in, sucking the exposed skin of Damian’s inner thighs. Teeth barely grazing against the sensitive flesh. Damian made a sound, stifled behind closed lips. Dick’s lips travelled light across the sensitive skin, kissing and sucking at the incredibly soft flesh. Dick’s hand pressed up between Damian’s legs, grabbing at his cock. Palming over it, feeling it stiffen underneath his hand. A bead of precum glistening on the head.

Damian lightly trembled underneath his touch. He stood as positioned, vest gripped in one hand, the other resting on Dick’s shoulder—for balance, or just to hold onto something, Dick wasn’t sure. Damian tightened his grip, expressing his impatience, and Dick obliged only because he couldn’t wait much longer. The temptation was pulling at him long before they ever stood on that roof. Pulled at him so greatly that it was hard to not give into his most base desires—to pin Damian down like he had back then, pressing against his wrists so hard they bruised, fucking him and not caring if he screamed out until they were caught.

But he wasn’t going to. Because he was himself again, no pollen to reduce him to animalistic desire, and he cared about Damian. He cared deeply and he wanted to prove that. It was fucked up, Dick knew that. No good person would be in this position, doing the things he was doing. And in truth, he was acting out of selfishness before anything else. But Damian approached him and Dick wanted him, and the best thing to do would be to tell Damian _no_ but Dick was far past that logic. The least he could do now was show Damian that he could be better. He could be giving, gentle, loving.

He wrapped his hand around Damian’s length, running his tongue along the side. Tasting him. Damian’s arousal was hot against his lips, straining and pulsing in his hand. He could see the folds of the vest shift as Damian tightened his hold, trying to keep himself composed as he experienced these new sensations. Dick swallowed the tip into his mouth, hands moving to Damian’s hips, holding him into place while his back arched off the wall, wanting to sink deeper into Dick’s mouth.

Dick didn’t let him. He took things slow, teased the head of Damian’s cock. Pressing his tongue against it, tasting the precum collected on the tip. Alternated between running his tongue along it to encapsulating it in his mouth.

Damian’s breaths were audible now, shallow breaths as the hand resting on Dick’s shoulder clenched and unclenched. Body quivering. Each sound, each tremor, urged Dick on. He slowly buried Damian’s entire length into his mouth, swallowing inch by inch, Damian emitting a muffled groan. Dick felt Damian’s leather clad fingers threading through his hair, heard the light gasps.

Dick was so hard. He really wanted to get out of the tight confinements of his uniform. Wanted to touch himself. But he resisted. He sucked on Damian's cock, moving across the full length. Pressing his tongue against the warm flesh. Moved skillfully, bobbing his head at a steady pace. Running his tongue along the length. Listened to Damian’s voice become more vocal with every stroke of his lips. His breaths were more akin to gasps, moans bit back, and each sound fuelled the heat in Dick’s groin. He groaned around Damian’s cock, his lips humming against the flesh. He gripped Damian’s hips harder, felt Damian fill his mouth as he took in the entirety of his length, nose pressing against Damian’s body. Waited there for a moment, felt Damian’s hand tighten in his hair. It almost hurt. Dick could bet that Damian wanted to make it hurt, but was still holding himself back.

Dick caught a glimpse of the shadows casting over him as Damian’s body fell forward. Both hands switched to Dick’s head, fingers tangling through his hair, as he bent at the waist. His gasps and moans were unfiltered now, his body trembling. Dick loved the reaction. He had wanted this. Wanted a chance to do it over. Wanted to focus on making Damian feel good, to prove that it didn’t have to be the same way that he took him underneath the pollen, all rough and desire with no love or care. That Dick _wanted_ to see Damian in pleasure, had fantasized about it, and experiencing it without the haze of the pollen—hearing Damian’s raw voice, truly, and understanding why he was shaking and trembling and flushed with lust and desire—was better than Dick had dreamt of in his moments alone in bed. Even in the absence of the fever, the sensitivity it granted him, fuelling him—this was better. He found himself moaning more and more around Damian’s cock, feeding off and responding to Damian’s pleasure.

“Not yet,” he heard Damian breathe, and Dick’s eyes were closed but he could envision the frustration in Damian’s face. Dick didn’t let up, moving a little faster. His jaw ached and the concrete was biting at his knees but he ignored it. He could hear the sounds of his wet mouth around Damian’s cock, the sucking sounds and all, and it was lewd and he was hard and Damian was so sensitive that his knees were quaking and his back was bent and his cape was cast over them both and Dick just focused on him finishing. He wanted Damian to finish. They both needed it. “Grayson—”

Damian cut himself off with a single sound—a short, strangled groan, just a pitch higher and more desperate sounding than anything Dick had heard from him. It happened suddenly—Damian was coming, and Dick held still as Damian filled his mouth with his seed, hot and bitter on his tongue. Dick pulled back, ignoring the taste and swallowed.

“You—”Damian started, but he stopped himself when Dick glanced up at him. Damian’s face was flushed, his hair was even a little mussed from his squirming. Still, his face turned a shade darker, looking almost embarrassed, muttering, “That’s crude.”

It was almost difficult to stand—not just because of the dull ache in Dick’s knees, but also because he was still painfully hard. Damian turned his head away just slightly, his hands fidgeting at his clothes that he used to cover himself but didn’t quite dress himself back into. He was still expecting something. Dick felt a strange surge of affection, almost akin to pride, and he didn’t understand why he felt that. Hadn’t felt that way with anyone else. And he especially shouldn’t have felt that way in that moment, when he should have felt ashamed.

He found himself touching Damian’s hair, Damian bristling a little in response. The hand petted over his hair, settling on his nape. Like always. Dick leaned in, kissing him lightly, and his mind was racing with thoughts of what to say. Trying to find a way to relay his feelings, his thoughts of how beautiful and good Damian had been.

Dick had buried himself. He had lost—he had done what he had told himself he would never do.

More than that, he wanted to do it again.

Dick turned to lead the way, to take them back home, but Damian grabbed at his wrist.

“Are you going to—”Damian started, but he stopped, frowning. This was nothing like how he was when he was flirting earlier. Perhaps it was because he was still in the afterglow of his orgasm, still trying to catch his breath and relax, but he seemed oddly exposed in that moment.

Dick could feel his cock pressing against the seam of his uniform, still hard. So hard. But he shook his head. He could wait until he was home, in his bed alone, and take care of it then.

“We can’t,” Dick said.

Damian frowned for a moment, seeming unsure of what to say. It worried Dick.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Dick said, confessing.

“I wanted you to,” Damian said, words echoing from earlier. His voice sounded too breathy, too elongated. Dick felt himself stir in response. He could feel his heartbeat.

“This isn't right.” What had he gotten himself into? The look in Damian’s expression was a bit too much for him to handle. He was beginning to feel nervous. Just once, he had told himself. Dick bit his lip a little, shaking his head. “Shit… Damian, that is not—I’m sorry—”

“I’ve wanted you to for a long time,” Damian said, and there’s something in the way he looked as he said it, and Dick had to stop for a moment.

He didn’t have to trust in Damian’s words. He just knew.

Even before the pollen, he sensed it. Their closeness wasn’t normal. It started out as just a partnership, yes. But there was tension there, with every look and touch and word, however innocent.

It wasn’t just in Dick’s head, it was real. Damian was killing him with this information.

If Damian was anyone else.

If he was just a little bit older, if he wasn’t Bruce’s— _no_ , he couldn’t think like that.

“We can’t—”

“I keep thinking about it,” Damian said. His brow furrowed a little. “I shouldn’t have stayed in your room. You weren’t yourself. But afterwards, all I could think about was doing it again.”

There was a hint of something in his voice. Guilt.

Dick frowned, wondering about the tone in his voice. Wondering if Damian actually believed that he was the one taking advantage of Dick—that he was guilty for staying, even knowing that Dick was under the influence of the pollen. But that wasn’t right. Damian wasn’t the guilty one. Dick was. He was the one who did it. Even after the pollen had cleared, he still wanted more. And he thought about it too—thought about it just about every damned night. Stayed up late because of it. Touched himself because of it. And it was never—

“It wasn’t enough,” Damian said, stealing Dick’s thoughts. Dick stared at him.

Against his better judgment, he asked, “What wasn’t enough?”

His voice shouldn’t be that low. His voice shouldn’t sound so husky. And Damian picked up on it, because now he was looking at Dick carefully. Choosing his words wisely—because things were working in his favor and Damian always knew how to manipulate a situation that stood in his favor.

“I tried to do it. On my own. Like you did.”

There wasn’t even a hint of suggestion in Damian’s tone—Dick knew exactly what he was talking about, and Damian’s explicit confession burned through Dick’s mind. He could barely breathe, recounting all of the times where he also thought _it wasn’t enough_. How many times he had thrusted into his hand wishing it was inside of Damian instead. How many times he was alone in his room and just wishing that Damian was there, for any reason. And now he imagined Damian in the same position, fantasizing about Dick.

_Like you did_.

Dick fixated on those words. How literal was Damian talking when he said that? Did he mean, like—

“I couldn’t do it like you,” Damian said, as if reading his mind, and Dick swore that their minds weren’t even this closely linked when they were on _missions_ together.

Dick almost groaned in response, his cock hardening.

Fuck.

“How often?” he found himself asking, and there was a shift in Damian’s expression. Like he knows that he has him.

“Every night.”

Dick knows Damian is telling the truth.

Because he had been the same.

Every night.

Dick should be sending Damian off to Bruce. Should be sending him home. But just the thought of it, the idea of Damian wanting him, trying to _imitate_ him—it’s too much. His hands are back on Damian’s body, arm wrapping around his waist, and Damian’s body is so slender and his hips are so narrow that Dick is almost certain that he could just pick him up with one arm.

Dick hastily pulled off his glove and bracer behind Damian’s back, looking over Damian’s shoulder to watch his bare hand as it moved down the small of Damian’s back. He felt Damian tense in his arms as the hand slipped down the crease of his ass. He could feel the heat coming off of Damian, the pads of his fingers pressing but not entering. He felt Damian’s hands trying to grab onto his uniform, trying to hold on for purchase, but they only fumbled against the tight material of the fabric.

“Like that,” Damian said, his heated voice lost in Dick’s chest. Dick didn’t need to be told. He pressed in, watching his finger disappear. Nearly groaned at how hot, how tight, Damian was. Damian’s body accepted the intrusion, giving proof to his claims. He had done this before. He had done this, thinking of Dick. Wanting Dick. And it wasn’t enough.

Dick gritted his teeth.

This was so fucked up.

He didn’t stop. Damian was moaning in his chest, the sounds stilted and heated and Dick just pulled him in closer, held him as his finger dug into him. Up to the knuckle. Damian’s holding onto him now, arms wrapped around him for balance, as Dick fingered him. Thrusting into him in long strokes, diving fully into Damian’s body each and every time. Now Dick was the one finding it hard to breathe. He was so goddamned hard.

“More,” Damian said, sounding breathless.

Dick’s face was hot, his ears flushed. He obliged the request, pulling out his fingers long enough to spit in them, and then shoving them in again. Two now. Damian was still so tight, squeezing around the digits. Dick could feel Damian’s hands on his back, so small in comparison to his own. Dick wondered perversely if Damian had ever been able to get it in that deep on his own. He almost wanted Damian to show him how far he _could_.

“More,” he said. The plea was desperate, heated, and Dick never thought he could get so flustered from one word. Damian’s hips were gently rolling into Dick’s hand and all Dick wanted was to replace his fingers with his cock. Shove himself deep inside, let Damian grind back against him. Let Damian fuck himself, since he wanted it so badly. But Dick shook his head a little. It’d be impossible. Damian was already wrapped so tightly around him.

“It’s too early.”

“No,” Damian insisted, his sigh almost forlorn. Despite Damian’s head being locked against Dick’s chest, Dick could hear the boy’s voice drowning in desire, breathy and almost desperate. “Do it like you did back then.”

Back then: fingers crooked inside of Damian for what could have only been a few minutes. Damian’s face twisting up as Dick forced his cock inside. Frustration driving his thrusts in, forcefully paving a way inside of Damian, wedging himself inside of the tight, dry heat as far as he could go. Damian clenching the sheets, face burning red. Both of them sheened with sweat. Dick, pushing in again before Damian could catch his breath. Holding onto his hips tight, thumbs bruising, as he cleaved Damian again and again.

Dick shook his head.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

He already has.

“More,” Damian breathed, ignoring him. There was almost a hiss to his breath, his hands lying dangerously close to the zipper of Dick’s uniform, and he demanded, “Faster.”

Dick made a small frustrated sound, almost a growl. He scissored his fingers inside of Damian, trying to ignore the way Damian’s hands reached up his back, trying to get at the zipper. Tried to ignore the way Damian was shaking in his arms, his voice growing more inhibited and wanton as Dick tried to force in a third finger. This had to have hurt, Dick told himself. But he supposed Damian didn’t care.

_Do it like you did back then_.

He felt a rush go through him, the third digit pushing inside of his ex-protégé but he could barely get the tip in. Dick never felt so frustrated—all he wanted to do was fuck Damian, forget about all this other toying around nonsense, but he knew he couldn’t possibly fit his cock inside.

_God_ , he thought suddenly as he heard Damian give a short cry as Dick forced the third finger in deeper. Was Damian this loud when they had done it? Had he _ever_ been this loud?

Damian was falling apart in his arms, and Dick had to remember that Damian had already came. His nerves were probably pushed over the edge with every twist of Dick’s wrist. Dick knew he had to get this over with—and if he was honest, he was impatient. His cock was rock hard and had been waiting for something to fuck.

“Turn around,” Dick said, as if he even needed to command it. At this point, Damian would probably accept him in any position—the idea of it made Dick shudder.

Dick pushed the cape and hood out of the way, the yellow lining seeming to read like a warning. Dick was approaching awful territory. There was no going back from this.

He didn't care.

They were on a rooftop in a bad part of town in a scummy roof enclosure. Nothing about this was pretty but Dick almost could believe that it was when he looked down at Damian. Dick had rearranged his garments to make room for him, pushing up the vest and exposing Damian’s long back, pulling down his pants to his knees, revealing inch by inch of perfect skin. Damian’s body was not yet carved weary with scars, nor was it hardened by muscle. His body was marked in some places, yes, and strong—but he was young, with some softer bits here and there.

Dick couldn't resist touching. He leaned in, kissing lightly along the spine. His mouth travelled along the skin, pushing the vest as high as it could go. He pushed aside the hood and collar, burying his face in Damian’s neck, sucking on his throat. Hands rubbing circles along Damian’s sides, his stomach. Reaching around to tease his nipples. Damian shifted underneath him, bare ass brushing up between Dick’s legs. Dick’s body practically blanketed Damian as he bent over him, caressing him.

The Nightwing suit was not only tight but it felt unbearably hot. This situation shouldn't turn Dick on this much—sucking Damian’s cock until he came and then teasing his chest and pinning him against a wall until he squirming underneath him—but it did. His teeth grazed against Damian’s neck and the younger gasped sharply before sighing. Dick was grinding down against Damian’s form, finally feeling some pressure on his cock.

He needed to get himself out. Fast.

Dick stood back, finally undoing his suit. The zipper made a soft noise in the air, and Dick shivered when the cold air touched his exposed back. Both gloves were removed, and when he reached down to touch Damian’s skin again—hands running up his thighs to his ass to his lower back—he was able to fully appreciate the softness of his former sidekick’s skin.

Dick stared for a moment longer. Damian’s legs were spread, inviting Dick inside. From his angle, he could just barely see Damian’s entrance, the steadily returning erection hanging from between his legs. Dick’s hands were roaming but he couldn’t decide where he wanted to keep them. His hands settled back on Damian’s ass, squeezing. Spreading.

“Don't stare. Just hurry,” Damian said, bitingly. And despite himself, Dick let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Impatient,” he said quietly, and his voice sounded too low to be simple chiding.

But Damian had a point—now wasn't the time to stare.

Dick spat into his hands, reaching for his erection. His eyes closed at the feeling of his hand on his heavy cock. His body had been waiting to be touched. He had been painfully aroused, and his hand felt almost soothing. He glanced down at Damian’s body, felt the heat rushing to his groin with thoughts of what was to come, and he nearly groaned.

“Show me,” Dick said, without thinking.

“Show you?” Damian repeated, murmuring. He breathed in shallowly and Dick watched his body stir with each breath, his ribcage rising and falling. Damian was overly excited, eager. And as much as Dick wanted to shove his cock in, and despite all the lines he had crossed, he still felt greedy. He wanted more from Damian.

“Show you what?” Damian said, glancing over his shoulder. Behind the bunched up folds of the cape, Dick caught the smallest glimpse of Damian’s teeth.

Damian’s brattiness really shouldn't be turning him on.

“Show me how _I_ did it,” Dick said. Damian’s gaze beneath the mask seemed to darken with desire. Without question, his gloved hand slid down his back before slipping down the crease. Dick realized this a second late. “Your glove—”

Damian ignored him, the pads of his fingers stroking over his entrance. He shivered once before pressing in, leather and all. Dick nearly groaned at the sight, watching Damian’s hole spread out for his fingers. Dick felt his own hand tighten over his cock.

Damian let out a shuddery breath as his hand sunk in completely. His ears were flushed red. His voice low, nearly a whisper, he said, “Remember when we were chasing that bomber two months ago—”his fingers pressed up to the knuckle”— _ah_ , well, you thought one of the bombs was going to go off, and you grabbed me and we ducked—”Dick watched, a groan sitting on his tongue, Damian’s fingers down to the knuckle”—and you were on top of me, your hand pressed against my face—”

Damian’s free hand was on the wall, steadying himself, his head leaned forward to lay on it. Damian breathed into his hand and Dick finally understood. He wondered what else reminded Damian of him—the smell of leather, the feeling he got when he fingered himself—

Dick cursed under his breath. He was going to come if he kept watching. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He grabbed one of Damian’s thighs, prodding him to spread his legs further apart. He pulled Damian’s hand away—the wrist enclosed in his tight grip reminding Dick of an earlier time. Damian kept his head forward. Body bent over, ready.

It was effort to even get the head of his cock pushed in. When he was finally in, Dick instantly groaned. Damian was clamping down on him, unbelievably tight and hot. Dick breathed for a moment before pushing himself a little further in. Damian groaned deeply, but if he was in pain, he didn’t complain. Dick held onto Damian’s hips, slowly pushing in further. Heat was closed around him, squeezing around his cock, and it felt so damned good. Each slide inside, deeper and deeper, felt better than the last.

Dick forcefully pushed himself the rest of the way. He clenched his eyes, shut tight, as he felt Damian wrapped around him. Dick could feel the flush in his face, his throat, his chest. The heat burned behind his eyes and in his ears. He was so hot. Damian was so hot.

God, he had fucking wanted this.

He rubbed circles along Damian’s lower back, trying to soothe them both. Trying to wait, to allow Damian to get adjusted to Dick’s size. Running a hand down the spine and feeling Damian tremble at the light caresses. When he deemed them both ready, he pulled back slightly, nearly groaning at the sight of his cock inside of Damian.

He looked like he had no business fitting inside of him.

“Are you going to turn around?” Damian suddenly asked, finally saying something. Dick couldn’t see his face but he could hear the strain in his voice. He sounded a bit short.

“Turn around?” Dick repeated, questioning. Damian hesitated in responding.

“This position—”he started, but stopped himself.

“Does it hurt?” Dick murmured, running his hand down one cheek. Grabbing, spreading it just to see where he was buried inside of Damian—seeing exactly how stretched he really was. “You’ve done it before.”

Damian was shuddering—from Dick’s actions or words, Dick wasn’t sure. Dick felt hazy, eyes heavy lidded, overwhelmed with this lust rising inside of him. The hand ran further down to Damian’s thighs that were spread for him. Damian had to stand on the edge of his toes to accommodate for their height difference—Dick could feel the stretch and pull in his legs. It could have been the position that hurt—the effort it took to maintain it, but Dick knew better. Damian could handle pain.

Dick leaned over Damian’s back, pushing back inside. Deeper. Damian pressed up against the wall, making staggered sounds between clenched teeth. Wanting to make a sound, but not allowing himself to.

“Well, does it hurt? Or is it just degrading to bent over and open for me?” he murmured heatedly, lips brushing against Damian’s dark hair. He could feel Damian tense—Dick didn’t need an answer, he already knew. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Weren’t you _demanding_ me to fuck you like before? For _more_?”

Dick moved his hips to emphasize his point, pulling back and slamming in him again. He could _feel_ the tension that ran through Damian’s body, watched as the hand balancing himself on the wall clenched into a fist.

“Isn’t this what you wanted when you snuck into that room?” Dick asked, mouth still running. “Is it embarrassing to speak knowing that I’ll remember everything you’ll say this time around?”

“You remembered anyways, you liar,” Damian managed to say, throwing his words back at him. But Dick didn’t pay any mind, thrusting into Damian, listening to him catch back only half of his moan. Dick loved the sound. Loved having Damian bent over, even if it felt demeaning, enjoying all the things Dick was doing to him.

Loved being inside him, so hot and tight. Dick’s heart was hammering, the slide of his cock burying into Damian feeling almost addicting. He thrusted in over and over again, hands running up and down Damian’s sides. Damian’s body seemed to accept his cock more and more with each thrust, until it wasn’t difficult anymore. Until Dick was fucking him at a steady enough pace that it felt almost _easy_.

Damian’s body spoke for him. He opened himself up further with every thrust. Their bodies met, making a sound that’s perverse and lewd and Dick’s face was hot and _fuck_ , he should have been ashamed but his only regret was that he waited this long.

All those nights alone should’ve been spent with _him_ sneaking into _Damian’s_ room, fucking him in his bed. All those patrols he spent avoiding Damian should’ve been spent on a rooftop like this, or an alley, or one of his safehouses, or anywhere—he’d find a place, if it meant he could get his hands on him. And Dick wouldn’t have cared if Damian held his voice in, biting pillows or on his own cheek to keep himself hidden, or if he continuously begged him for more, egged him on. Didn’t care if he was bent over or on his back. Dick would have taken him in any way that he could.

And he knew Damian would let him. And the fear that once controlled that fact only increased his lust, only drove each thrust. He wanted to show Damian everything. Wanted to keep him, make him his, make up for all the lost time desiring him but never acting on it.

Damian was having a hard time standing. It wasn’t just their heights or the strength behind Dick’s hard thrusts. His body had taken too much in one night—he was shaking, his closed-mouth moans sounding more like whines of pleasure. Dick ran an arm under Damian’s waist, holding him up, forcefully propping his hips up higher so he could keep fucking him. Keeping driving inside of him.

Dick could hear his own voice. His groans and grunts filling the air. He heard Damian’s voice beginning to join his, unrestrained now, gasping with short keening moans, and _God_ , he can’t even stand, but he was still letting Dick _fuck him_ —

The position was awkward, with Damian curled up underneath him, but Dick made sure to kiss the back of his ear. Ran his hand down his hair and neck until he was shivering.

“So good,” he murmured, and he meant it. Because as good as it felt to be rough, and despite how badly his guilt made him feel as a person, it wasn’t in Dick’s nature to be _mean_. He loved how cooperative Damian was being, how well he was enduring this all just to be closer to Dick, and Dick needed him to know that.

Dick pulled Damian’s body closer to him, the upper half of Damian’s body slipping, allowing Dick to plunge in deeply. Damian let out a short cry.

“Yes, like that,” he said, his earlier reservations about the position suddenly disappearing. He was shaking, Dick’s cock grinding deep inside of him. His voice, husky and thick, “ _Please_.”

“Don’t beg,” Dick said between gritted teeth, but only because he wasn’t sure if he could take it. He could slide in and out of Damian easily now, his body hot and tight and perfect, and it was taking a lot of Dick’s self control to stay levelheaded. Damian rolled his hips up against him, his hole seeming to swallow at Dick, pulling him in deeper. Dick groaned, trying to hold up Damian as he fucked him in shallow, quick thrusts. This position wasn’t working. He need more.

He pulled out, guiding Damian’s shoulder. Turning him around. Damian glanced down, eyeing Dick’s erection. Dick can see that Damian was hard again too, and he was still looking at Dick as if he wanted more.

Damian cooperated with Dick, allowing him to yank at the laces of his boots and strip his clothes off.

Dick had picked up Damian time and time before, usually only when it was necessary for a mission or he wanted to be playful, and it felt almost _indecent_ picking him up for _this_. Damian held on, arms draped over Dick’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his waist. Hands digging into his bare back as Dick held him up, aligning their bodies, steadying Damian’s entrance over his cock. He let Damian down enough for his cock to bury inside of him, both of them groaning.

Dick stopped, forcing himself to wait for a moment, feeling. Trying to regain his composure otherwise he'd be climaxing in seconds. Even staying still felt so damn good. Dick pushed Damian against the wall for balance. He looked down for a moment, staring, at where their bodies met. _God_ , Damian just looked so _stuffed_ all of the time. And he was so hard now that his cock was leaking, just from getting fingered and fucked

He looked up, seeing Damian’s face. His heart skipped. Damian’s face was flushed, his bottom lip all wet and chewed up from biting back his moans, and he just looked so good. Dick immediately leaned in, tasting him. Licking over his lip, sucking on it. Slipping his tongue inside of Damian’s mouth, the tips of their tongues touching.

Dick grabbed Damian’s hips, rolling up into him once. The kiss broke long enough for Damian to moan but Dick captured his mouth again, swallowing his sounds. He gripped his hips. Ready to fuck him, fuck him hard.

“Nightwing,” a voice suddenly called out.

Dick immediately froze in place, his stomach dropping at the sound of Bruce’s voice. He nearly panicked but then he remembered. He struggled to reach the side of his mask—Damian holding on so he wouldn't fall—and pressed the button there.

“ _What_?” Dick responded into the commlink, sharper than he meant to. Damian looked up at him questioningly, his body shaking. Dick winced as Damian’s hole clenched around him. He was so hot. So tight.

_Bruce, why now_ —

“You and Robin are both completely off the map.”

Dick gritted his teeth. Shit. He had gotten too distracted. Bruce was going to come looking for them.

How the fuck was he going to explain this?

Damian was looking up at him, his breathing beginning to slow. He adjusted his position a bit and Dick had to dig his hand into Damian’s leg to get him to quit squirming. At that, something seemed to flicker in Damian’s expression, the slightest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Dick just flashed him a warning look and glanced away, responding into the commlink.

“I know. I turned them off. I just need a few more minutes alone.”

“It’s getting late,” Bruce said in a low, disapproving voice. Dick wanted to throw the commlink away.

“I thought you trusted me to handle this,” Dick said. And at his own words, he stopped.

Trust.

Dick’s gaze lowered.

His qualms hadn’t just been about protecting Damian. Not entirely. It was also about disappointing Bruce.

This wasn’t something good people did. Hearing Bruce’s voice again, Dick’s feelings began to grow more and more conflicted.

He was remembering how wrong this was.

“I do,” Bruce said quietly. “I suppose if you need more time…”

Bruce trailed off, leaving the decision to Dick.

Dick glanced up at Damian, their eyes locking. Damian must have noticed that something was bothering him because the mischief on his face had faded away. Damian looked him in the eye, carefully.

Dick should tell Bruce. He should send Damian off to him.

Dick was still for a moment, the only sound in the air being the sounds of their breaths. Damian’s hand slowly moved towards his own face, catching on the corner of the green domino mask. He peeled it away, and Dick could see his eyes clearly now. Dick felt like he should have told him to put it back on, to redress themselves and leave, but he froze.

They were past that now.

Damian’s gaze was piercing. He looked at him expectantly, almost impatiently—as if he didn’t understand Dick’s hesitation. Didn’t understand why he wasn’t shutting off the commlink, didn’t understand why Dick wasn’t tossing his own mask when Damian had so willingly removed the tracker on his belt. He was there, his back against the wall and his limbs wrapped around Dick, pulling him in. Their bodies already connected.

This was Dick’s chance to make things right. That night in the manor, when the pollen had finally cleared but he was still inside of Damian, he had made the wrong choice. He kept going, fucked Damian again, even though his head was clear. And now Bruce was inside his head, telling him to step away, and Dick could do it. Hell, at the very least, he could tell Bruce where they were. Force Bruce to pry them away. And then Dick wouldn’t have to live with the secret anymore. Didn’t have to live with the guilt.

He could.

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” Dick said quietly, and he shut off the commlink before he could change his mind.

He felt Damian’s hands digging into his back, struggling to hold on. Dick put his hands back underneath Damian, pushing him against the wall. Finally repositioned back to where he needed to be, felt Damian slide down onto his cock. Dick clenched his jaw, the new position felt almost deeper.

Dick could see Damian’s face now. Damian was panting, an almost desperate look in his now-exposed eyes. He was filled and waiting. Waiting for movement. And Dick could feel his own arousal pulsing inside of Damian, wanting to fuck something.

So he did.

He kept going.

He watched Damian’s expressions closely as he dropped him on his cock repeatedly. Watched as he pressed his back against the wall, holding him still, slamming into him repeatedly. Damian’s mouth was parted, sweet sounds escaping him, and Dick kissed when he could. Sucked and bit at his lip, dragging out sounds from him. Fucking him as deep as he could, angling wherever Damian was loudest.

It felt so good.

Even better than before.

And his cock seemed to dig in deeper, sliding into Damian all the way. And Damian was responding to it, his noises louder now. Body trembling around him. Head turning and tossing as Dick slid into him over and over again.

It escalated. Damian’s back was pressed up against the hard wall, continuously rocking against it every time Dick shoved himself inside. Driving up inside of him continuously. Damian was struggling to balance himself now, his grip on Dick’s shoulders tightening. Dick could sense it—the way Damian’s hole clenched around him, the way his voice was wanton and loud, each gasp rising and rising.

Dick shouldn’t have been able to recognize it but he did. He remembered the first time. Remembered Damian coming with Dick’s cock deep inside of him. Damian was close. He was going to come again. Dick held him against the wall, moved a hand away from underneath Damian long enough to push up his vest.

“Bite,” he breathed, dragging the hem up to Damian’s lips, and he did.

Damian groaned around the material, eyes softening, melting, as Dick wrapped his hand around Damian’s erection, focusing on just that. Focusing on making him come. Dick watched Damian’s face carefully—Damian’s eyes were half lidded now, staring down at the hand wrapped around his cock, eyes glistening from either frustration or pleasure, face flushed hot, hair mussed, teeth bared around his vest to expose his stomach and hold back the steadily increasing sounds of his pleasure. His body tensed and relaxed over and over, body trapped between Dick’s hands and the thick cock inside of him. He wanted to come, his body was begging and shaking for release, but he wasn’t quite there. Perhaps it had been too much too soon.

Dick wanted it anyways. He wanted Damian to come while he was buried deep inside of him. Wanted to feel Damian trembling around him, repeatedly squeezing his cock with his hole. Wanted to feel Damian’s cock pulse in his hand as climaxed. Wanted to watch Damian in the midst of his orgasm, wanted to see tears on his long lashes and the flush on his skin as he spilled his seed all over himself.

Wanted to feel it all over again.

So he didn’t let up. Kissed Damian’s brow and jawline—asked, encouraged, demanded him to come—pumped his cock in his hand and rammed into him as deep as he could until finally, Damian’s eyes clenched shut and he let out a short cry, muffled by the fabric between his teeth. Dick groaned with him, felt Damian fill up his hand and just jerked him quicker. Dick swore he could feel every bit of Damian around him as he came, his hole tightening hard around Dick.

Dick watched as Damian’s seed fell over Dick’s hand and his own stomach, and Dick suddenly found himself trembling too. Sparks racing down his spine. He couldn’t do anything but hold still, hold tight, as he came inside of Damian. Heat flooding his groin. Felt his seed, hot and thick, surrounding his cock as he filled Damian up. As he reached near the end of his orgasm, his knees suddenly felt ready to collapse.

He nearly lost his balance trying to carry Damian to the ground. They stayed frozen for a moment, Damian placed on the ground with Dick still inside of him, trying to catch their breaths. Dick finally pulled out, watched as his ejaculate ran down Damian’s thighs and nearly groaned at the sight.

Something new to remember.

As they caught their breaths, Dick’s common sense slowly began to return to him. He wondered what he was going to do. Wondered about the consequences of his actions. This wasn’t something he could pretend to forget. When he dared to look up, he didn’t realize how close their faces were. Their gazes locked, their noses nearly touching, their breaths intermingling. Damian’s eyes grew dark—and there was something warm in them, but also cunning.

Dick stared.

His heart was racing again.

“You’ve ruined me,” Damian murmured, his tone almost mournful. But he was feigning it, Dick could tell by the cruel smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. Whispering, voice almost harsh in the space between them: “So you better take responsibility and take care of me.”

Dick looked at him for a moment. Then kissed him.

They cleaned up and moved to get dressed, Damian grabbing the belt. Dragging it towards him.

Inside one of the pouches, Dick could hear a light ringing.

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [tangere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203776) by [weird_bird (2weird4)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2weird4/pseuds/weird_bird)




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